The Wanderer
by wildhoneychild
Summary: An unlikely connection forms between the sheltered farmer's daughter and the jaded archer. Season two-era (and beyond) Bethyl.
1. Chapter One: Skin and Bones

Hey guys! So I wrote this (up to chapter five) in July 2013, during the hiatus between seasons three and four, before any real Beth and Daryl interaction. I had this idea of "what would a romance between them look like?" and tried to make it as in-character as possible without much to go on haha. So that might kind of affect it. This starts out in season two, and it's going to be kind of a gradual build-up. Hope you like it!

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When Daryl Dixon met Hershel Greene's youngest daughter Beth, his first impression of her was that she would never survive out there in the world the way it was. Since the shit hit the fan, she had been barricaded into this little safe space created by her overprotective father, sheltering her from all the horrors outside.

Sure, she'd lost her mom and brother, and he really did feel for her on that, but they'd all lost somebody. For the most part, she was still free to live on this idyllic farm, frolicking around making cookies and dusting the fine china, like it even mattered anymore. The Greenes were faced with only the occasional straggling walker that stumbled upon their land, and one of the men would take care of it right away. Sweet little Beth never had to lift a finger, never had to see just what the world had become. She never had to go hungry, never had to cry without a pair of arms waiting to hug her.

That was more than Daryl could say about his own family, even before the apocalypse. If he could admit it to himself, part of him was jealous of the tight leash Hershel kept his daughters on, knowing his own daddy never cared about what happened to him or Merle. He was apathetic and neglectful at best, actively destructive at worst. And his mama had never tried to protect them, always too far gone on whatever substance she could get her hands on in an attempt to escape her miserable life.

A few times, Daryl found himself wistfully envying Beth's naivety about the world, wishing he could cover his eyes and pretend things would be okay. But he knew he couldn't. Things were the way they were, and they just had to deal with it and survive. That's the way he'd always been living. Dead people walking around honestly didn't make much of a difference, so it hadn't been too hard for him to adjust. It was such a stark contrast to Beth Greene's life. Truthfully, he couldn't say that he'd ever spoken more than a few words to her, but from what he knew, he could venture a guess that she was a scared, sheltered teenager who'd never wanted for anything and remained oblivious to the reality of life outside of the farm.

Whatever. Not like he gave two shits about a bunch of strangers. He just wanted Carl to get better and Sophia to finally be found so they could get out of that place and back on the road. Not that constant moving and scavenging seemed much more appealing, but at least it kept them alert and didn't provide a false sense of security. It bothered him the way the rest of the group seemed to be making themselves comfortable. And it would be an understatement to say he didn't warm up to people easily. It had taken months before he began to trust the people in his group, and he still felt like he had one foot out the door in case things went south. Why should he get all cozy with Hershel Greene and his family when he didn't know him from Adam?

Things started to change. The group gradually became more torn and fractured. As time went on, tempers flared constantly and allegiances seemed broken. It turned out that Lori was pregnant - just what they needed. There was an air of uneasy tension between Rick and Shane at all times, even more so than usual. Daryl often caught Shane glaring at Rick with a wild look in his eyes, and it didn't take a genius to put two and two together. They discovered that the oh-so-honest Greene family had been hoarding walkers in the barn, pulling the blinders over their eyes and claiming that they were just sick people and there would soon be a cure and things would go back to normal. What a crock of shit.

After nearly being killed in the forest while looking for Sophia, Andrea accidentally shot Daryl on his way back, grazing his head and keeping him bedridden for several days. While moping around in his tent, unable to go far and feeling utterly useless, he contemplated everything that was going on, and mused that sometimes he felt like the only sane person in the group. He missed his brother, the only person he could felt he could relate to.

Shortly after his recovery, a defining moment changed the group. One day, in a fit of rage, Shane tore off the barn doors and essentially released the straw that broke the camel's back. As walkers came spilling out, growling and snapping before being swiftly taken down, one lone little girl shuffled behind the rest… Sophia Peletier, flesh half-rotted away, eyes gray and soulless, clothes torn and bloodstained, stumbled aimlessly into the sunlight, slowly and steadily making her way toward the group members with bared teeth.

Daryl felt his heart sink, and a wave of nausea and hopelessness filled his chest. Carol immediately burst into hysterical tears, lunging forward toward her daughter before being held back. He grabbed her and held on while she collapsed and sobbed. He did not cry – nobody would ever see him cry – but he felt shattered and his eyes remained locked on Sophia. All that time, he had been looking for a dead girl… how could he be so stupid? How could they have let it happen? No one wanted to be the one to do it. After a long moment of hesitation, Rick finally ended it with a bullet. Sophia instantly fell backward, landing with a thud. An eerie silence settled over the farm.

Nobody spoke for a long time. Carol drew up into herself on the ground, shoulders trembling as she was racked with sobs. Daryl kept his hand on her back and his eyes scanned the rest of the group, all of their faces stricken with shock and grief. He also saw the Greene family. Hershel knelt on the ground, looking both confused and desolate at the loss of his wife and son. Maggie stood behind him, speechlessly wiping away tears on her sleeve, while Beth wept noisily with her face pressed against her father's shoulder.

Then Beth suddenly got to her feet and ran clumsily toward her mother's body. She bent down and rolled it over, before discovering in horror that Annette was not completely dead. She screamed in terror and revulsion as her mother tried to sink her teeth into her, grabbing at her with dirty rotting hands. Daryl instinctively grabbed his gun, as did everyone else, and Andrea finally took out the woman as the others pulled a hysterical Beth away.

Daryl's observation was confirmed. She was so naive, and this world was too much for her. But he still felt a lingering pang of heartfelt pity for everyone, including the poor grieving girl that he barely knew. He exchanged a weary, knowing look with Rick, and they began the process of dragging the bodies away to be buried.

Later that day, Daryl heard that Beth had collapsed and gone into shock after everything that happened. He couldn't say he was surprised, but he did pause for a moment, feeling a twinge of concern as he remembered the young girl's heartbroken face earlier. She didn't deserve to lose her mother. Carol didn't deserve to lose her daughter. Then he shook it off when Lori came and asked him to go into town to find Hershel and his concern gave way to anger.

No. He was done. He refused to get attached anymore. He had gotten attached to Sophia and Carol, and look what happened. He ended up chasing shadows like a damn fool, letting himself get worked up over a little girl that wasn't even his. And Carol just wouldn't leave well enough alone. No matter how hard he tried to pull away, she was always looking at him with those sad Bambi eyes, crying herself to sleep at night while putting on a brave face and trying to play the wise nurturing role. She didn't know shit.

He was done caring or looking out for anyone but himself. That's the way it always had been, and the way it was always supposed to be. He didn't belong with them.

Daryl retreated to the outskirts of the farm alone to think about what was happening next, and when Lori approached him to try to go rescue her husband, he was filled with a deep sense of bitterness. Here they all were, asking him for favors, but what had anyone done for him? Rick and Hershel could go to hell for all he cared. And that girl, lying catatonic on her bed? He pushed away any sympathy he had for her. She needed a goddamn reality check sooner or later, just like anybody else.


	2. Chapter Two: A City Without a Soul

Hey guys! Thanks for the follows/favorites/nice reviews so far. Sorry I've been slow to update, I just got back from spending three weeks with my family for the holidays. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter up soon, as well as updating my other story, The Last Decent Man (a Beth/Rick fanfic :)). Also, I tend to build up kinda slow and wanted to explore the characters' mindsets, so sorry for not having a lot of Bethyl interaction right now, it's coming! Anyway, thanks for reading, feel free to let me know what you think. :)

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In a tangle of sweaty bedsheets, with the sun burning her eyes through the window, Beth awoke the next day feeling like she had been hit by a truck, and realizing that the events of the previous day weren't just a bad dream. Though out of her catatonic state, she still barely moved. She didn't eat or sleep, and only took sips of water at Patricia's nagging insistence. The simple act of movement seemed exhausting.

She just stared at the wall for hours, hugging her pillow and barely acknowledging anyone else's presence as they entered the room to check on her. The one thing that kept running through her mind was that her mother and brother were dead. She had been skeptical about her father's assertions that they were sick and doctors would be able to distribute a cure and help would come any day now. But she never wanted to accept anything else.

And then Shane broke open the barn door and she saw the people that she loved turned into vicious, mindless _things_. Reality came crashing down on her within a matter of minutes. There was no cure. They were gone and weren't coming back. The whole world was coming to an end. There was no hope for better days ahead, no civilization or safety, just snarling monsters out to get her and everyone else.

What was the point in trying anymore?

Lori quietly entered the room and greeted her with a hopeful smile and a tray of food. Beth gave no response, and she left unceremoniously, setting the tray on the nightstand and squeezing her shoulder.

Suddenly a lightbulb went off in the back of Beth's head. She rolled over and examined the tray. The food held no appeal to her, as her appetite was gone… But there was a steak knife on the tray. She pulled it out of the rolled-up napkin and held it up to the light, watching the sharp edge glint in the sun. She dropped it down to her thin wrist, cocking it back and holding the blade against her skin. She ran it along very lightly, willing herself to end it quickly. But it wasn't the right moment. She hid the knife under her pillow for later, while she closed her eyes and resumed her anguished circular thoughts.

After about an hour, Lori came back to check up on her and pick up the tray. Assuming Beth was sleeping, she gave a small sigh at the cold, untouched lunch, pulled the quilt up to Beth's chin, and carried the tray back out of the room. But after a few moments, she returned in a hurry after realizing that something was wrong.

"Where is it?" she asked sharply.

Beth opened her bleary eyes, but said nothing and avoided looking at Lori.

"I'm not playing around, Beth. Give me the knife, now."

She thought about fighting back, but didn't have the energy. She reached under her pillow and held the knife out to Lori, who quickly snatched it away. Beth wasn't phased. There were other ways to do it. She could bide her time if she needed to.

Shortly afterward, Maggie stormed into the room and slammed the door. Beth turned her head to look at her sister, whose face was lit up with fury.

"What the hell were you thinking, Beth?"

The blond girl sighed and strenuously propped herself up in bed. "I was thinking, what's the point?"

Maggie clenched her teeth and paced back and forth across the rug. "What's the _point_? The point is that you can't just cop out on us once things get a little tough. That's so selfish of you."

A sudden rush of anger came over Beth. "Wake up, Maggie! Look outside! Mom's dead! Shawn is dead! They're not coming back –ever! Can't you see that?! We were so stupid to believe Dad, to think that this whole mess was temporary, that those things out there were still the people we knew. Everyone around us, everyone we knew, is dying. The world is _ending_. You think that we just wait it out and the government is going to come in soon, and– sweep up the mess and it's all gonna go back to normal?" She drew in a shaky breath. "It's not! And it's only a matter of time before we die too."

For a moment, Beth saw a flash of pain in her sister's eyes, but then her face grew stoic again. "That's not true. We're safe here, you know that."

"Really? You think? Maggie, those things… they're growing in numbers. What happens when we run out of food? What happens if we have to leave? What happens if too many of them come on the farm when we're caught off guard or we just can't fight them off? What happens if bad people find us? Sooner or later, we're going to die, whether it's by starvation or being ripped apart or… any number of things."

Maggie shook her head stubbornly. "You can't think that way. You can't just give up."

Tears fell from Beth's wide eyes. "Why not? What is left in this world anymore?"

"Me, and Daddy, and Jimmy, and Patricia, and… and Glenn and his group…. We care about you. We all do. You know that Daddy would fall apart without you. You're right. Mom and Shawn are gone-" Maggie's voice cracked slightly, but she forced herself to continue. "But they would want you to keep fighting. They wouldn't want this for you."

Beth just shook her head. "I can't. I'm tired of fighting. It's not enough, Maggie. I don't want to be eaten alive. I don't want to see them- you - killed. I don't want to have to live in constant fear and misery. I would rather end it now, peacefully, in this bed, than torn apart." She paused. "And… I want you to do it with me."

"What?!" Maggie screeched, hands curling into nervous fists. "You're out of your damn mind!"

"Think about it! We can do it together. That way it will be easier. And it will all be over. And we'll be with Mom and Shawn again and we won't have to hurt anymore." Beth's hands trembled as she stared desperately into Maggie's eyes, searching for understanding and needing recognition. " _Please_."

Maggie was silent for a few long moments, lips pursed in tense thought. Then she stood up. "Fuck you, Beth. You just do whatever you want."

Beth flinched. It was one of the only times she'd ever heard her sister curse, and it stung. She watched Maggie leave angrily, wanting to grab her arm and apologize and beg her to stay. But she just sat there, staring at the door as it slammed shut, and feeling more alone than ever.

That night, Andrea was supposed to be watching her, since Lori insisted that someone keep an eye on Beth at all times. When she sat down beside the bed, Beth expected her to look down on her with pity and disdain. Instead, she began talking calmly. She told her about losing her sister Amy, and how badly she'd wanted to end it all in the CDC.

"And you don't still?" Beth asked carefully.

Andrea stared down at her hands. "Well, some days are better than others." She looked back up at Beth. "The point is, I know what you're going through. I'm not going to sit here like everyone else and pretend that everything is going to be peachy keen. It's not. I know you're not stupid, and you've seen what life has become. I don't blame you for not wanting to stick around. But I'm also not saying that everything is hopeless, and suicide is the answer either."

After a long, thoughtful silence, Beth whispered hoarsely, "Does it ever get better?"

With a sigh, Andrea stood up and rested her hand on Beth's arm. "The pain doesn't go away... You just make room for it." With that, she gave her a small smile and walked out the door, giving Beth the choice that she'd wanted someone to give her.

Beth found herself suddenly overcome with emotion at the display of kindness from this near-stranger. She also knew with certainty what she had to do. She laid back down in bed, beginning to formulate a plan in her mind.

Hours passed with anxious anticipation. After waiting to ensure that everyone had gone to bed, Beth tiptoed out of her room and down the hallway, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards and Andrea, asleep on the couch in the living room. She had sneaked out of the house a few times in the past, going to silly high school parties when life was still normal, so she knew the routine of managing to leave without getting caught.

She also knew that her father kept the gun cabinet locked, but she had seen him tuck the key away in a small box in the living room before. After giving a quick glance to Andrea, making sure she was still sound asleep, Beth retrieved the key, carefully opened the cabinet, and pulled out a small pistol. It felt foreign in her hand, but she stuffed it in the pocket of her hoodie and left quickly without looking back.

Glenn was sitting on top of the RV keeping watch, scanning over the horizon for any nearby walkers. She was careful to stay close to the treeline and avoid his line of sight and inevitable questions. Everyone else seemed to be settled down for the night. The only sound was the hum of cicadas in the cool air.

The moon was high in the sky, and Beth's senses all seemed heightened. She felt a cold sweat on her skin and watched the dirt crunch under her feet as she retreated toward the woods. The plan was to do it on the outskirts of the farm, hopefully far enough that it didn't attract too much noise and draw walkers toward her family, but close enough that someone could find her and give her the burial she knew her father would want. She kept walking, quickly and silently, her fingers clutching the gun in her pocket.

 _One bullet. That's all it takes._

She was starting to doubt herself. She couldn't help but picture her father's anguished face when he would find out that she was dead. She felt a pang of guilt in her chest and sniffled a bit. But it was too late to turn back now.

Why couldn't any of them understand that it was the only choice? What were they holding onto?

Beth finally stopped when she felt she'd gone far enough. She stood in place, catching her breath, facing the farm where she'd grown up, and silently saying goodbye. She pulled the gun out of her pocket and examined it in the moonlight. After a deep breath, she slowly lifted it and rested the barrel against her temple.

 _Please forgive me._

She couldn't do it. She was unable to pull the trigger. Troubled by her lack of courage, Beth shook her head and lowered the gun, clutching it tightly, and continued walking further into the woods. She hoped that she'd work up the nerve to do it on the way.

But before she could get far, a gruff voice called out behind her.

"Hey, where are you goin' in such a hurry?"


	3. Chapter Three: I Went Out Walking

Sorry that this is so, so delayed. I'm finally getting around to writing/editing again! Feel free to review/favorite this story if you like it! :) Oh, also shamelessly plugging my new Bethyl playlist on 8tracks. - /kbethx/isn-t-it-beautiful

Hope you guys enjoy!

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Beth jumped backward in shock to see Daryl Dixon before her, sitting on a lawn chair in front of his tent and re-stringing his crossbow. She hadn't realized he was staying so far out here, away from the rest of the group. She didn't know what to say. She had hardly spoken to the man since his group arrived on the farm, and to encounter him now, of all times…

"G-going… for a walk…" she stammered in response, realizing how unconvincing it sounded as soon as the words came out of her mouth.

"Uh-huh," he grunted sarcastically, setting his crossbow down and looking her in the eye. "You're the girl who tried to off herself today, right? Word travels pretty fast 'round here."

"I guess…" Beth blushed, feeling humiliated and at a loss for words. "I mean, whatever."

Daryl stood up and took a couple of strides toward her. "Whatcha got there? I'm bettin' you ain't out here to pick daisies."

She didn't respond. She tried to turn away, but Daryl firmly grabbed her arm. He stared at her for a moment, and she didn't fight back as he pulled the pistol from her pocket.

"Protection?" he asked gruffly, tossing it to the ground.

Beth's defenses left her, and she immediately burst into tears, wondering what she was thinking in the first place. She fell to her knees and covered her face with her trembling hands. "I-I don't know, I just couldn't take it anymore."

Daryl's face softened a bit, but he still stood frozen in place, feeling somewhat uncomfortable at her display of emotion. Part of him – the raw, wounded part of him that was still hurting so badly with emotions that he would never acknowledge – wanted to push her away, tell her that he didn't have time for her sob story and he wasn't gonna coddle her or tell her everything was okay. But the more rational part of him saw something in Beth that he recognized in himself, and he knew that he didn't have it in him to turn her away or lash out right now. So he just stood beside her and let her cry as much as she needed.

"What do you care anyway?" she finally whispered, looking up at him with bleary eyes. "You barely know me."

Daryl exhaled impatiently and tried to carefully choose his words to give the young girl a reality check without sounding like an asshole. "Well, somebody else dyin' is the last thing we need, don't ya think? Don't matter who it is. Ain't like nobody else can afford that luxury right now."

"Haven't you ever thought about it, though?" Beth asked shakily, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. "You know… suicide?"

A heavy silence hung in the air. Daryl turned his head and muttered, "Before or after?"

Had he thought about it? Yes. It had crossed his mind many times when he was a young boy, stuck in the hellhole of his dysfunctional family and constantly being told he was a worthless piece of shit. He would have done anything to get away from his evil father. He'd burn himself with cigarettes and punch things until his knuckles bled on a regular basis, just to feel something, just to release the pain built up inside him. One night after one of his father's merciless beatings, Daryl waited, crumpled on the floor, until he eventually drunkenly stumbled back into his bedroom and passed out. Daryl had gotten to his feet, walked into his room in a daze, and haphazardly tied a noose in his closet from an old belt. He stared at it, willing himself to go through with the act, when suddenly he was filled with white-hot anger instead. He ripped the belt down, shoved all of his important possessions in a backpack, and left that night. He never went back to that house, and hadn't seen or spoken to his father in twenty-some years.

And then after everything happened… People saw every reason to off themselves, and many did because they didn't want to face what the world had turned into. He remembered the dumb bastard who hung himself in a tree, and Jacqui and the crazy doctor in the CDC all those months ago. He remembered himself again, soon after they found Sophia in the barn, going so far as to bring out Merle's old stash and stare at it between his hands, before throwing it to the side and feeling disgusted with himself. He would never admit to the weakness though, because that's not what Dixons did. Surprisingly, the whole "world coming to an end" thing had increased his drive to live – if for no other reason but stubbornness.

"Wouldn't that be a trip?" Daryl scoffed, his arms crossed defensively. "Survived an arrow in the side, a shot in the head, getting chased down by those ugly sons-a-bitches day and night, waiting to eat me alive, and whatever other damn surprises are in store… Only to die by pussying out like that. Yeah. Not me."

Beth chuckled through her tears. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I can't imagine it for you. You're so tough. From what I can tell, anyway. Not me. I'm so weak. So scared."

"Well, don't think you know nothin' about me," huffed Daryl. "Some of us just don't take the easy way out. Look, if you're waitin' for some sappy bullshit about how life is sacred and everything happens for a reason, you're talkin' to the wrong guy. And we're fresh outta therapists these days, in case you didn't notice. All I can give you is the truth, and it ain't always pretty."

She shook her head. "No, I know, I get enough of that from my dad. But just… how do you manage? How do you keep going, knowing that it's probably all just hopeless? How do you stay as strong as you do?"

Daryl glanced at Beth on the ground, looking vulnerable and scared and desperately looking for an answer. Something about her made him feel a twinge of empathy, and he finally let his guard down and opened up to her. "Well, maybe we're all just wandering around like a bunch of dumb suckers, markin' time before we become worm food. But I know that there ain't no honor in suicide, not now, not ever. I ain't gonna fill your head with pretty words about how things are gonna get better, cause I don't know that. But this world is all we got. And that's how I do it. I don't think I have a choice."

She sighed heavily as she took in everything he had just said. "Yeah… I know. It's just so overwhelming. Sometimes I just don't think I can deal with it all."

"Listen, girl. You're only seventeen. You have your daddy and sister and a whole bunch of people looking out for you. You still got some good in your world. You have more'n most folks out here, so count your blessings." He paused for a second, then added with finality, "And you don't get to walk out on us – understand?"

Beth was silent for a few moments. The "us" in Daryl's statement stood out to her. Their eyes met, and she could see genuine concern on his face. She nodded slightly. "Yes."

His voice turned serious again. "You ain't gonna… do nothin' to yourself when you leave, right?"

"No. I'll be okay for now, anyway." A faint smile appeared on her lips. "Thank you."

After studying her face carefully, Daryl nodded once and walked away from her, back to his own tent. Beth watched him go, before finally stuffing the pistol back into her pocket in defeat and meandering back toward the house, deep in thought.


End file.
